I wanted to start a journal to document my journey with my amazing herd of horses, but that would be boring. So to add a little spice, enjoy some commentary by Leonard Di Chubbs. My snarky, moody, little mouse, who spends more time on my shoulder in the barn or on horse back with me, then in his tank.

Yeah, yeah, human. They are tired of your talking. Let the brains of the opperation speak. *clears throat* Hello, humans and those large, food, dropping creatures you seem to obsess over. I am Leonardo, or Lee-Lee though anyone caught calling me that, shall promptly be peed upon. I am a year old, Pink-Eyed Mouse. The human, or Krissy, believes that she rescued me. But really, I was only in the feeder mouse bin at the feed store, because I wanted to practice my snake killing skills. Honest.

My human is quite well-trained, and understand that cages and tanks are beneath me. I prefer to spend my days in her pocket, or on her shoulder, because we all know she'd never manage without my supervision. I aid her in task such as grooming horses, cleaning tack, mucking stalls, preparing feed (my favorite activity since I can always steal a bite), and other tasks she'd never accomplish without my aid.

Here is my handsome self.

Lee could quite easily spend the whole day talking about himself but this is a horse journal, so I do believe he should get on with introducing the herd.

Fine. Though they aren't as handsome as me.

The Old Geezer. The human calls him Ty, though the boring paper things call him Intrepid Mork. Apparently he's a purebred Arabian gelding. He just celebrated his 35th birthday, I helped him eat his cake. The human recived Ty as her first horse, and on some days, I'm allowed to show my cowboy side, and ride in my owner's pocket, while she rides Ty around the yard.

I'm told this horse is called Misty, though my human seems to prefer yelling curse words at her. She's a 15 year old Arabian mix mare. I'm quite sure she's insane. Though my human is fond of her.

Now the human seems to get myself and this next horse confused. She calls me FatA$$ when she clearly means Harley. This lug is a grumpy 10 year old Breeder's Stock Paint horse. I dislike him. He never shares his food.

This beautiful young, lady is my favorite. She shares her apples with a certain handsome mousey. Her name is Star, and she's a 6 year old grade horse. She unlike her companions, has never stepped on any of my wild cousins. So cleary my human should only keep her. The human disagrees.

Now this is nutjob. I personally detest my owner's newest addition. She refuses to allow me to accompany her while she works with this dummy. I'm being informed by the human, that his name is Rebel and he's a 3 year old Mustang/Paint gelding. Or nutjob which I think fits him far better.

Now to introduce the human. Her name is Krissy, though I personally think of her as the Food Bringer. She's a 17 year old female human, who is far to ambisious. She disagrees with me on her life goals. Clearly her life goal should be treating me like royalty and ensuring my every need is met, not attempting to become a farrier. You can see her in the above picture with Misty.

There is many other members of our family. The human's grandfather owns a dog rescue, but one dog in particular seems to be sticking around.

Noah. A 3 year old Labrador/Newfoundland my human hand raised. The dog knows his place. His nose still has scars from my fearsome fangs.

I shall cut Lee off there. Because he can go on forever. Tomorrow we shall do our first real post. This is just our introduction.

Why thank you Roman. I told the human that I'll soon beat that creature called Justin Bieber in fans.

I'm up quite early today as you can tell. Well for me at least. Normally I doze in the human's pocket until noon or so. But The Thermometer Man is coming today. You know that vile person that puts the thermometer and his hand where the sun doesn't shine!

Apparently the Jiggling Fat Machine...

Lee means Harley. And I'd like to remind you Lee that your called Leonardo De Chubbs for a reason.

If you are implying I'm fat you are very much mistaken. Its fluff...and I'm big boned. Hey are you sharing that doughnut?

I thought you were talking to your legions of fans?

Oh yes. Anyways the Walking Butterball has a scateroid on his cheek. Apparently my human and The Therometer Man are going to discuss if chopping it off or some kind of cream is the better options.

Though it hasn't grown or bled or done anything else bad, it does rub against the headstall of his side-pull and I'm concerned on longer rides it will cause problems. So its getting checked out and we are going to figure out which option we want to take.

I still have my doubts it is a growth. Are we sure Mr. Cow didn't just get a piece of food stuck to his face? I could bite it and see?

No Lee, and besides the vet will be here soon.

Your only in a rush so you can blush and drool on your own feet at the cute vet tech.

Leonardo!

Well its true. Besides you aren't allowed to like him. I've told you. We are marrying you off to the man who owns the peanut butter factory. So I get all the peanut butter I want.

But have a good morning my amazing followers. I need to go. The human has started hitting her head into the wall. What did I tell you? She'd never be able to function without me.

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